The Gathering (Darkness Rising 1)

"What does it mean?" I asked.

The old woman snorted. "Why do you care? Obviously it won't mean anything to you. You don't know your language. You don't know your heritage. The Dine shunned you. Sent you away to be raised by strangers."

"She asked what the word means," Daniel said.

"And I said--"

"She asked what the word means."

Daniel's voice took on a rumbling tone he used when someone wouldn't listen to him. The old woman's gaze rose to his as if drawn there against her will.

They looked at each other for at least five seconds. Then she made a strange noise, deep in her throat, and when she spoke, she spit out the word, like she couldn't help herself.

"Skin-walker," she said. And slammed the door.

NINETEEN

WE WALKED TOWARD THE Harbourfront branch library, just across the road and down the street from the tattoo studio. A guy was playing his guitar out front as tourists barreled past, eyes averted. I dropped a toonie in his hat. Daniel did the same, the two-dollar coins clinking in the empty hat.

We sat down. I took out my muffin from the cafe and got one bite before Daniel said, "I take it you know what a skinwalker is or we'd be in the library looking it up. And I take it you're upset about it because you haven't said a word since we left that apartment."

"Not upset. Just feeling dumb for not figuring it out on my own. A skinwalker is a Navajo witch, which is exactly what she called me. It's not a good witch. Or something they dress up as for Halloween. For some, skinwalkers are really out there, cursing people. The tattoo artist said her aunt used to live with the Navajo. A folklorist. She would have heard all the stories. At the time, I'm sure that's all they were, but now, with the dementia or whatever, she's confused and thinks they're real."

"Are skinwalkers a kind of shape-shifter? Like werewolves?"

I nodded. "They're supposed to be able to take on different forms, usually coyotes and wolves."

"So this woman, who used to study those legends, knows you're Navajo, sees what looks like a paw-print birthmark, and thinks you're a skinwalker."

"I've never heard of them being marked, but maybe she has. A regional version of the legend. Anyway, I have my answer so I can stop worrying, which is good, because I have more than enough to worry about these days."

"You want to talk about it?"

"Not much to say. It's just a bunch of things hitting at once and it's like they're feeding on each other, making them all worse. The tattoo place problem. The cougar problem. The Rafe problem."

"You'

re really upset about him, aren't you?"

"I'm really confused about him. So let's talk about happier subjects. You said Nicole came over this morning." I bumped his shoulder and grinned. "I take it that means last night went well."

He stared down at his untouched muffin.

"Or not," I said.

He put the muffin back in the bag. "Yeah. It didn't. I mean, it was fine. We talked. We ..." He shrugged. "I gave it a shot, but it's not going anywhere, Maya. I know you think I'm still hung up on Serena. I'm not." He glanced over. "I'm really not. I miss her and I wish to God I could have--"

His voice caught and he looked away. The bits of muffin in my stomach turned to lead pellets.

"It was me," I said. "I'm the one who saw her go under. I'm the one who could have saved her. If I'd brought Kenjii ... If I'd learned to swim better ... If I hadn't panicked, thinking I was drowning ..."

"No," he said firmly. "Whatever happened out there, we did our best. I know you did and you know I did, and we're not going to get into it again. We're not. Okay?"

I tried to look away, but his gaze skewered me.

"I know you feel guilty and you know I do, but that has nothing to do with me dating again. It doesn't."

I nodded.